


The Artist Case

by Sirianna123



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirianna123/pseuds/Sirianna123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal AU for Gravity Falls.</p><p>Bill Cipher is an FBI agent. He can 'see' how a crime was committed just by looking at the crime scene.<br/>Stanford Pines, his boss gets worried when he has barely slept for almost a month when the Artist, a known murderer who is supposedly dead returns. He sends him to Dipper Johnson. An eccentric psychiatrist with a really nice smile and unique approach.<br/>Will Bill be able to find out the truth about Dipper and catch the Artist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Artist has returned. Bill was sure of it. Almost. He wasn't back alone, he had either an acomplice or a copycat.  
"There is no other way Ford." Bill said passing a thick folder to his boss. Stanford Pines,  head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI.  
"If you say so." Ford said sighing. "You look terrible. When was the last time you slept?" he asked.

"Y..."

"Whole night."

"I don't remember. Around a month ago, when Artist appeared." Bill admitted seeing no reason in lying to his boss. "I can handle it."

Ford thought otherwise and told him to come with him for a ride.

"Okay, where are we?" Bill asked when they stopped in front of a fancy office building.

"We're taking you to a specialist. Whatever exercises Mabel is doing with you to help you don't work. I have told her about it."

"I take it she wasn't happy," Bill said but followed. If Ford wants him to talk to some old creep let it be. He'll prove him he doesn't need it.

In the lobby, Ford informed the receptionist that they came to visit so-called Doctor Johnson. His office was on the twelfth floor. Walking out of the lift Bill meets with shock. It wasn't the tall blonde woman. Pacifica Northwest, an heir to the biggest fashion magazine in town. It was who was shaking her hand.

A Tall man in an elegant suit. Brown hair was messy in an elegant way and his eyes... Bill could see himself getting lost in their shade of brown. He was perfect even if he had slight bags under his eyes. Bill was sure his eyes looked much worse. "I'll see you next week Miss Northwest." the man, Doctor Johnson smiled giving her, her coat. Pacifica thanked him and walked to the elevator. The only sign of her noticing Bill and Ford was a slight, barely noticeable move of her head. A nod out of courtesy.

"Ford! What brings my favourite FBI agent here?" Doctor smiled turning to them. "Has your work finally gotten to your head?"

"No, it's not about me. Meet Bill." For introduced fishing blonde man forward.

The doctor has heard of him. Bill was sure that every single psychiatrist in town has heard of him. No everyone could get into criminals mind just by looking at his handy work.

"Okay, Bill~" something in the way his name was said to send shivers down Bill's back. "Come on in." the doctor added with a smile. "Just him," he added when Ford tried following. "We're making a safe space here. No need for your comments~"

Somehow Bill was grateful. He didn't need more of Ford saying he needs it. The office was quite impressive. Bookshelves filled up to the ceiling on his right, Small pine tree growing in a pot in one corner. Wall exactly opposite of him was hidden behind light blue curtain suiting curtains covering the windows and the carpet. In the centre of the room stood dark blue leather seat and plush loveseat of a similar shade. Between them was a coffee table with two cups. One empty and one untouched.

"Take a seat," the doctor said pointing Bill to the plush love seat and taking the empty cup away. "So, how about we start with a proper introduction?"

"Can't you just tell Ford I don't need this? I really don't." Bill complained.

"Are you sure? Everyone could use a real talk with someone who understands them, and not everyone is capable of truly understanding." Johnson said, "So, I'm Dipper Johnson, psychiatrist and art critic. I sometimes paint and sculpt."

"And I can't take the sight of blood. I either throw up or just faint." Dipper added giving him his dark coffee.

"Bill Cipher." was all he said. He had no intention of telling him anything.

"Hmm." Dipper mussed giving him a small smile. It was quite cute. "Has Ford told you anything about my methods?" he asked.

"No. And I weren't asking."

"Good. Because my methods have changed since the two us spoke last time." Dipper said sitting back and opening folder Ford gave him when Bill went into the office. "Tell me, Bill, ~, have you got any hobbies?"

That was new. Every single psychologist was asking him about how he sees the murders, how it feels to him and so on. "Ships. I'm assembling models of ships," he said. It was true.

"And how old are you? I'm twenty-four as of last weekend."

"Twenty-three, my birthday is on first of December."

Dipper kept asking him similar questions for the next hour.

What your favourite colour? Yellow and black. Name of first pet? I don't remember... Name and gender of the first lover? Don't remember the name, man. The first person, you had sex with? What does it have to do with this meeting? Answer. No idea about the name, a man. It was a one night stand during his time in college. Why have you chosen this career? I liked the idea of helping those who can't ask for it anymore. Admirable. Have you ever regretted your choice of career?

"Once..."

"Care to tell more?"

"No."

"Okay. It's fine. Some things are best left unsaid."

"Then why to pry into my sex life?"

"That's wasn't doing any harm. It was a good memory, right?"

Was it? If probably depends on how good sex was... Was it? He couldn't remember. "No idea. It was some time ago."

Dipper nodded. "Okay, now tell me what you see..." he said standing up and walking to one side of the curtain covering one wall. "...on those pictures."

Bil knew three of those scenes. Latest murders. "How? When?"

"Around a year ago, when the Artist struck for the first time," Dipper admitted.

"Seven people died then, and you have eight... He was 'almost' caught at eight."

"Yes, he has committed suicide when police caught him when he was trying to murder me. After four hour chase, he jumped off of a cliff." Dipper said covering the wall.

Bill was shocked. No one has ever told him who was supposed to be the eight victims. "Why? Why aren't you in any database?"

Dipper laughed dryly. "Out of the reason, they found us before I was killed. They suspected me. And Ford would much rather have a hole in the data than an innocent suspect who they were planning to put in prison and victim of most violent of the crimes, wouldn't he?"

Bill got no answer to this. None what so ever.

"Let's leave this subject," Dipper said covering the wall. He was cheerful and smiling again. "That was my old method... Each of those paintings depicts the state of the mind of my patients from a year ago. When they left this..."

"Fact that th..."

"...this office they were fine. No more suicidal thoughts, sleepless night. This hadn't changed even if my methods did."

"As I said I don't need this." Bill protested and stood up. He was starting to have his usual visions. Chains... Cage... Words of affection he couldn't understand...

"Everyone needs to talk. I'm not your enemy Bill. I"m your friend. I'm here to help." Dipper was talking slowly, not moving from his seat he has returned to after covering the wall again.

Bil watched him. The vision has stopped. He was breathing heavily and sat down. This guy. Dipper was doing something to him. And he wasn't sure if it was bad or good. But he wanted to know so he stayed and talked with Dipper a little longer.

"Remember Bill, don't let Ford force you to do more than you are certain you can handle and know your limits, next visit will be tomorrow, four PM." Dipper finished the meeting with a smile.

"Why so soon? And I have work." Bill tried protesting.

"You need to talk more. Have you any friends willing to talk about it? Outside of the work?"

"No, but..."

"Let me be your friend then. Here are my private address and number. Come by whenever you might need to talk to someone." Another smile. Bill was confident Dipper was forcing those.

Leaving Bill was planning to return but not for therapy. He wanted to know more about Dipper. And eight almost murder.


	2. Placebo Effect 1

Bill woke up at seven AM, he didn't wake up on his own. It was his phone that woke him up. "Yes?" he mumbled sitting up and yawning.

"We have a case. Come to XXX Street. XXX Hotel. You'll see us." Stanford said and cut the call.

Bill sighed and went for a really quick shower. He was surprised that he slept the whole night. Was it the therapy? Could be but not necessarily. It could as well be tiredness coming to him after this time.

He dropped the breakfast if it is as serious as Stanford made it sound it could leave him quite quickly.

With no one to say goodbye to he ran off to his car and drove to where Ford told him to go.

Both police and FBI cars stood around cheap, rundown motel. "Bill!" Mabel runs to him the second he left his card.

"Hello, Shooting Star. Where's Ford?"

"Room three on the second floor... Good luck," she said and left. "It's not the artist, there were no art supplies on the scene."

She was shaking. Not many things could shake her like this. During the year he has worked under Ford he saw her like this only when Artist resurfaced. Be it real one or a fake.

 

Walking into the room Bill understood why she was like this. 

On the bed lied two people. A man and a woman. There was no blood anywhere other than the bed. Bright blue sheets were soaked in blood but not even a drop fell on the floor. The bodies weren't lying. They were kneeling, thin string keeping them in a kneeling position. "They are praying," Bill said coming closer. 

"Any evidence on them actually being part of any cult?" Bill asked walking around.

At their back were tattoos. Wings. Weird silvery in colour.

"We are looking into it." There is almost nothing pointing anyone or any crime. Except for two bodies and blood-soaked bed...

For Ford, Bill just spaced out. Eyes closed. Breath even. And he just stood like this for some time. Sometimes he walked around.

From his end, Bill saw two victims looking at him and saying something. A prayer? Maybe. And then he saw wings beeing tattooed on their backs. Bottle of ink falling... Rolling under the bed. Murderer just left it.

Blinking Bill looked under the bed. The bottle was still there.

"Tatoo ink?" Ford asked when Bill showed him the bottle.

"Yes, and I'm certain it was used on the victims. We better check what is in it exactly." Bill nodded.

There wasn't much more they could do for now so Ford send Bill home. For now. It would take an hour of three for the section and all analysis to be done and Bill looked better but still like shit. "Rest." was what he said sending him away. Bill wasn't even complaining. He was hungry and a little bit tired. He just nodded and drove home.

Midway there he changed his mind and dropped by a pizzeria and then directed his car to Johnson's office. He had a feeling that he won't have much time later and Dipper said something about having some free time around this time when he was leaving yesterday. It wasn't quite right. The receptionist told him Doctor has a friend visiting him but it shouldn't take long. Thanking her Bill went to waiting room thankful she said nothing about three pizza boxes he was carrying. He didn't have to wait long.

A minute or two later doors opened and not ver tall, definitely overweighted guy strode out with charisma and confidence of president candidate. Platinum blonde pompadour hair

"Keep what I said in mind, Dipper," he said jovially with a wide smile. There was something in this man he didn't like. He looked a lot like a rodent. "And who could this be? Seeing patients this early? That's so like him. Gideon Gleeful," he introduced himself shaking Bill's hand.

"Bill Cipher," agent introduced himself.

"Famous name in psychologist circle. But I've got to say I'm surprised Dipper is the one working with you. He hates CIA," Gideon smiled and presented him with a book. "It's got my autograph," he said and left after saying goodbye to Bill.

'Healthy Soul Leads To a Healthy Body' Read the cover of the book. Bill heard that the guy started a cult centring around him based on some psychological concepts. 

"Bill? I haven't expected you this early!" Dipper instantly rose from his chair seeing Bill enter his office.

"And I haven't expected I'd ever come back," Bill confessed dodging a hug.

Dipper didn't seem all that fazed by it. "I see you brought pizza. My dietician wouldn't be happy but I assume you won't tell him," he joked when Bill offered him one of his boxes.

"You know Gideon Gleeful?"

"Yes, he's an excellent psychiatrist. Well, more like was." Dipper started preparing tea for them. "Until he got interested in Placebo's Effect. He's even made a cult basing on this concept and his book."

"This one?" Bill asked showing him the book he got earlier.

"Yes, there was a series of suicides among his followers but he has stopped it when police started suspecting him of... aiding them." Dipper sighed. "He's always could talk his way out of anything. Anyway, how was your night? Have you slept well?"

"Kind of," Bill confessed. "Ford's call woke me up. As if Artist wasn't enough..."

"Don't think about work when you're not in work." Dipper butted in placing tea before Bill. "Unfortunately my dietician banned it for me. Said I'm drinking too much of it. Additionally my psychiatrist said I get too focused when I paint." he complained.

Bill smiled at it. He spoke to numerous psychiatrists before being assigned to Fords squad and meeting Mabel, but even she seemed stiff nd professional compared to Dipper who was just talking with him and occasionally pulled at some story he has mentioned. And he wasn't afraid to talk about himself. This approach was refreshing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> :)


	3. Chapter 3

When leaving Johnson's office two hours later Bill had the same feeling as last time and today's later visit moved for next week. This time he had no visions so he was pretty certain the painting was the cause last time.

As he was about to start his car and go home Bill got a call from Ford saying that the bodies have been examined and they found something interesting. Not really thinking what someone like Ford who was fascinated with such examinations might find interesting, Bill drove to the station.

What got his boss' attention were two identical, laminated pages in victims stomachs. "Now you two have to find what book they are from," Candy, their section specialist said like it was a walk in the park. Ignoring For complaining that it's not going to be easy Bill took a closer look at the pages. "I know this book. It's from 'Healthy Soul Leads To a Healthy Body'" he noticed taking out the book, suddenly glad he looked at it while Johnson was making tea for them.

"Wh... How?" Ford asked. He was confused.

"I meet Gideon Gleeful at Johnson's, he gave me a signed copy of his book. Those pages have the same design around them," he explained taking out the book to show them the pages.

"Okay, is there anything about lead? It was in the ink you found under the bed and tattoos on the victim's backs," Candy asked.

"Let's see, 'It's common knowledge that body is a burden to the soul as heavy as lead' says the first line. Rest seems to prove behind this 'common knowledge'". Bill sneered. "I knew the guy was shady when I saw him."

"Wait, are you saying it was Gideon?"

"He or someone who really believes what he's saying in his book."

It made sense and it was the scariest part. And with series of suicides among Gideon's followers in the past... It just pointed at him more. What was worse, the guy knew who Bill was and still behaved like he did nothing. He was completely calm despite the fact that Bill might have been there to arrest him. He was most likely insane.

"He used to be a psychiatrist until he got interested in Placebo..."

"Let me guess Bill, Johnson said so?"

"Yes, they know each other. And I still sat I don't need a therapy," he said and ended glaring at Ford who just shrugged.

"I'll see where doctor Gleeful could get his hands on lead," Ford sighed not bothering to argue with Bill. He didn't have to, Dipper was supposed to send him weekly reports to him on Bill's state.

With him, gone Candy whistled. "I'm shocked," she said sitting back.

"By what?"

"Him sending you to Dipper. Wait you don't know?" She said.

"Don't know what?" 

"Not telling, if you are such a great detective you'll find out," she said and left to have her lunch. She was the only person Bill knew who could eat after doing a section. He couldn't eat even after cutting frogs at biology back in school.


	4. Chapter 4

Figuring out Gleeful's lead supplier took Ford less than Bill expected. Guy called Ghost Eyes was selling the stuff on the black market. He even confessed selling it to Gideon what made Bills work easier. He decided to not ask for his methods, Ford was known for being ruthless when he wanted to achieve something.

He didn't pay any mind to Mabel practically taking no part in the investigation. It wasn't the first time.

Unfortunately, the other part wasn't as easy. Victims indeed were part of the Gleefuls cult, but finding the guy himself. Almost impossible. He disappeared. No one knew where he was. Not his followers, not his friends, not his family. It was as if he never existed. But Bill knew he couldn't hide forever.

And with waiting and occasional visit at Johnson's he had time to think about many things, like what Candy meant. Artist's act mentioned eight victims but no by name. But he knew it. What he didn't notice before was the squad assigned to the investigation. Ford was leading and Bill recognised his assist as a now-retired investigator whose post he 'inherited'. What was weird was fact that the psychologist assigned to the investigation wasn't named. Just 'employees from outside'. What was outside? And why wasn't their name as much as at least mentioned? His handwriting in a couple of reports was familiar, but not quite.

"Where have I seen it?" he wondered stretching. Ford? No. Mabel? Candy? Himself? "Wait!" she suddenly remembered something and started rummaging through his bag. Last prescription from Johnson for sleep medicine. Almost identical, couple letters were written a bit differently but still very similar. "So it's most likely him. Something with how Ford interacted with the psychologist and how Mabel never referred to him any differently than just 'your psychologist'. Taking one last look at both texts to make sure he really saw it Bill grabbed a leather jacket off of the back of the chair and decided to pay his psychologist a visit. With just a small moment to wonder if he should look for more he just ran off not stopping when Mabel shouted at him for almost making her and neat stack of papers, she was carrying fall.

Driving as fast as he could without breaking the law he reached Johnson's office in record time. Walking in he was stopped by a nervous secretary.

"Thank God, Doctor Gleeful came here minutes ago and... I heard the police are looking for him and all... I heard shouting... And..." she stuttered seeing Bill who cursed silently.

"Okay, call Ford, I'm going in." She said she already did so Bill told her to hide and wait.

Leaving his bag with her Bill took out his gun and silently but quickly proceeded towards Johnson's office. Some shouting could be heard.

"It's all you fault! ... No, I..." He couldn't hear Johnson but he knew he was there so he kicked the door hen he couldn't open it. It worked.

"Stop it right here!" Bill shouted aiming at Gleefull who was standing above Johnson who was lying on the floor with a smirk. "Get away from him!"

"You again?! Just go away! It's between us!" Gleeful roared at Bill. All his reason was gone.

"It as done years ago, give up," Johnson said calmly despite broken lip and several other, shallow wounds.

"What is?" Bill asked walking closer. Gideon took a couple of steps back.

"This idiot dated my sister, and when we were about to graduate she broke up with him. Well, I did at her request because he was a massive creep," Johnson shrugged.

Gleeful was just heavily breathing while glaring at them both.

"And now he's doing his best to get payback from me, thinking she'll like him. She hasn't talked to me in a year, you think she cares if you'll kill me?"

"Your sister?" He knew he had a sibling but not that it was a sister.

"Mabel Pines! This guy's real name is Dipper Pines, but he changed it when he was 'suspected' of being the Artist!" Gleeful happily shouted, "But I know the truth. It was him!"

For a while everyone was silent. "So recent murders... That was you? I should have known," Johnson sighed. 

"No. That was YOU."

Dipper laughed shortly. "You make no sense. When those were happening I was either here or with Mabel, and none of the previous set of victims had anything to do with Mabel. Unlike those who you killed now. They all used to date her right? And then broke up with her and you decided to 'avenge' her broken heart?"

Bill was at a loss. He knew there was something missing from the case. If Gleeful wanted people to believe I that it was Johnson's doing why sew his book... A distraction? No. Lost his touch? Possible. 

"The judge will hear the rest. Gideon Gleeful you are under arrest." was suddenly hear from the door. For was finally here and with him Mabel who was looking everywhere but at the scene.

With a roar Gideon rusherd towards Bill, pushed him aside and threw a lamp standing at a nearby table at Dipper who just sat there wide eyed. A soon to late Bill regained his footing ad apprehended him while Mabel rushed to Dipper who lied there in now critical condition. Rest of it became a blur to Bill who received a hard punch to his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be irregular.


End file.
